Bits of Shine
by Honorat
Summary: Assorted POTC Drabbles and Vignettes. New Chapter: A missing moment in CotBP. Where did all the food come from?
1. Never Broken

Never Broken  
by Honorat Selonnet

For the drabble challenge "Broken" at Black Pearl Sails.

Rating: T

She haunts his memory, floating like a broken doll amidst the flames and wreckage of the pirate attack. The water carrying away the parasol she was so proud of is red with her own blood. He had dived into the sea to save her, knowing she could not swim—not knowing it was already too late. That dive had saved his life.

Now another beautiful young girl stands before him twirling her parasol. Her brown eyes sparkle. "Please, Will. Teach me to shoot,"  
Elizabeth coaxes.

Slowly he hands her the rifle. He knows that girls, treated like dolls, break like them.


	2. Green Apple I

Green Apple I

By Honorat Selonnet

For the drabble challenge "Broken" at Black Pearl Sails.

Rating: K

She sits before him, living, breathing, feeling. The sight of her first bite wrings an involuntary gasp from him. She does not know what a wondrous thing it is that she does. To feel hunger and be able to sate it. To desire food and be able to taste it.

He has planned this meal so carefully, meaning to draw out this vicarious pleasure like the slow summer days of childhood. It is so very little, but even the hint of satisfaction drives him mad. He cannot wait. He must see those soft, full lips, those perfect teeth envelope the smooth green flesh. He must hear the music of the fruit crushing.

"And the apples," he entreats. "One of those next."


	3. Green Apple II

Green Apple II 

By Honorat Selonnet

For the drabble challenge "Broken" at Black Pearl Sails.

Rating: K

For too long he has kept this bowl on this table. For too long he has shaped his hands around the elegant curves, contemplating the beauty, the mystery of such simplicity, devouring only with his sight. He remembers the silky feel of glowing green skin, the tang and sweet and crisp and juice on his tongue, or he thinks he does. But sensation has been gone so long he is no longer sure.

To see and never to taste is hell indeed.

But to see and hear the slice of teeth through the firm green flesh, to see pleasure in the face of his enemy is utter damnation.

"It's a funny ol' world, innit?"


	4. Green Apple III

Green Apple III

By Honorat Selonnet

For the drabble challenge "Broken" at Black Pearl Sails.

Rating: T

As his enemy falls, Jack's sword arm reaches out ever so slightly—as if the death of Barbossa is the death of something in himself. The edge of his blade drips with his own blood and with Barbossa's, intermingled in one shade of crimson. The droplets stain the gold under his feet. The smoke of his pistol drifts up in the moonlight like incense. Dark, somber eyes hold faded blue-grey ones, emptying of all the torment and the glory that was Hector Barbossa.

From Barbossa's limp hand, the green apple, never to be tasted now, rolls down a slight incline of gold. Ten years Jack has cherished implacable hatred. Ten years he has plotted this vengeance. Ten years Barbossa has waited to feel, only to feel the chill of his own death.


	5. Impatience

Drabble: Impatience  
by Honorat Selonnet

Rating: K  
Disclaimer: Disney owns Jack and the Black Pearl.

For the "Patience" Drabble Challenge at BPS.

* * *

For ten years she has felt nothing but the burn of desire for eternally cursed gold. Not the embrace of wind in her sails. Not the caress of the sea on her hull.

For ten years she has flung herself like a wounded leviathan against the snarling seas. She has lashed fortresses and towns and tall ships with the screaming fire of her cannon in her search for the gold that calls. And she has wept tears that rise like banks of fog for him.

She has endured.

Now the curse is lifted, and she has no more patience. In the joy of salt spray and the kiss of ocean breezes she flies to him. What Jack Sparrow has always been for the Black Pearl is freedom.


	6. Waiting

Waiting

by Honorat Selonnet

Rating: K

A cameo appearance of Will's mother. I couldn't resist the literal meaning of the name Marguerite.

A double drabble for the "Aches" challenge at Black Pearl Sails.

Exactly 200 words--"aches" appears in each half so it really could be two drabbles, right?

* * *

Waiting

She never knows when she will hear his steps on the threshold. Never knows when she will come home into the crush of his arms. When she will hear the broken murmur of his prayer lost in the tangle of her hair: Oh God! Marguerite! My Pearl! Forgive!

She always forgives. For a breath of time she knows happiness so deep it aches. In that moment, her body resurrects the memory of what it means to be this man's wife. Reminds her why she waits for him, watering the parchment of his rare letters with rainy eyes until they are limp and soft as silk.

But he has another Pearl, who hangs over her joy like a sword. She knows that he will always leave her—will fly to his other darker lady out on the midnight sea. All her days, she knows grief so deep it aches.

As she stands on the dock with their small son's hand clutching hers, she does not let him see the tears she will shed when the sails have gone down the horizon. The love and the hate lie side by side in her heart with the blade of a sword between.


	7. Torn

Torn

By Honorat Selonnet

Rating: K

Disclaimer: William Turner, Sr. belongs to Disney. (pouts)

Summary: For the "Aches" challenge. Cameo appearance by Bootstrap Bill. Companion piece to "Waiting." There are always more sides to a story.

* * *

Torn

By Honorat Selonnet

Someday, he imagines, coming home will tear him completely in two.

In the moonlight, he brushes the silver traces of tears on her cheek with trembling fingertips—tears she never sheds when she thinks he is awake.

He cannot hold her close enough to ease the ache of his love.

Tomorrow he will wave farewell to her and to their son who worships him but does not know him—does not know his father is a pirate. He will set sail returning to the Black Pearl. To the man to whom he has been more of a father than to his own son. He tells himself he does this for them. But he knows he cannot help himself. The sea calls with her siren song.

He can never sail far enough to escape the ache of his own integrity.


	8. Toothaches

Toothaches

By Honorat Selonnet

Rating: K

Disclaimer: Johnny Depp owns the gold teeth. Disney owns Jack and Bootstrap.

Summary: Jack is being obstinate. Why are we not surprised? Sort of a Drabble for the "Aches" challenge at Black Pearl Sails.

* * *

Toothaches

By Honorat Selonnet

"Jack," Bootstrap's voice would brook no arguments. "We've taken a vote. You've got to go."

"Bloody hell, Bill. I've told you before, I am not going."

"If you don't, you're gonna start blowin' the kneecaps off your shipmates just to improve your temper. Now don't make me have to hit you over the head."

"You couldn't if you tried."

"Since when was the infamous Jack Sparrow afraid of a little pain?"

"Bill, are you tryin' to make me kill you? I'm not afraid of a little pain. I'm afraid of a bloody great awful lot of pain."

"You're already in a bloody great awful lot of pain. Now stop being such a namby pamby infant Jack."

The only reply was the sound of a fist impacting a quickly thrown up defensive hand.

"You can get them replaced with gold."

"Gold?"

"Yep."

"Well now that's different."


	9. Betrayal

Drabble: Betrayal

By Honorat Selonnet

Rating: K+

Disclaimer: Jack and Bill and Will are owned by Disney.

Set on the voyage from Tortuga to Isla de Muerta. Jack's POV.  
Drabble for the "Bootstrap Bill Turner" Challenge at Black Pearl Sails.

* * *

Betrayal

Where are you Bill? In what forsaken valley of the sea do you lie tonight? When I give Barbossa the blood of your only child, will you curse me before the sea crushes you? I promised you once if anything happened to you, I'd look after your boy, but I did not find him until now. And now I'm taking him to your murderer, to finish that murder with his own blood—with your blood. For vengeance. For the _Black Pearl_. Does it count, Bill, that I'll go with him? That I won't leave him alone with Barbossa? Or have I betrayed you as once I thought you had betrayed me. Will we see each other in that deepest circle of hell?


	10. Home

Home

By Honorat Selonnet

Disclaimer: Disney owns all pirates on these premises.

Mr. Gibbs is one of my favorite characters. For the "Down Time" drabble challenge at Black Pearl Sails.

* * *

Home

He's really down this time. Down with the pigs. Sleeping with swine like the prodigal son. They're not bad company—pigs. Warm at least. Smarter than a lot of men he knows.

But hunger and craving for rum and memory of the sea are an ache in his gut.

Sometimes he wonders if he ever could have gone home—to anything he has called home. Would his father have forgiven? The navy never will!

Suddenly, cold water splashes. He squints up, bleary-eyed—with sleep, not rum. He's never been this far down before.

The hand of a friend with the gold of Caribbean sun in his grin and the devil's own fire in his eyes.

Time to get up again.

Who needs a fatted calf when he has Captain Jack Sparrow, a flagon of rum, and an adventure on the horizon?


	11. For All Time I

For All Time I

By Honorat

Disclaimer: Disney owns all; I borrow without permission.

Another drabble for the "Down Time" Challenge. Will Turner this time. Only 10 words over—I'm getting better. I love these things. Thank you TrinityDay!

* * *

For All Time I

In the governor's eyes, he is a common labourer—no fine connections; no political prospects; his income derived from his own sweat.

In the eyes of his peers, he has no place, now. He is no longer entirely of their world— marrying an heiress, brushing daily with the powers in their lives.

But in her dark eyes that burn like the heart of a molten sword, he is a hero. She sees him as so much more than he is, forges him with her very belief into becoming what she sees. Down time and for all of eternity, he will look for himself only in the mirror of her eyes.


	12. For All Time II

For All Time II

By Honorat

Disclaimer: Pirated from Disney, but there's no profit in it for me.

Another drabble for the "Down Time" Challenge at Black Pearl Sails. This one developed out of a conversation with **erinrua**. Elizabeth Swann this time.

* * *

When she had come to him in that cave, saving his life, he did not dismiss her help. Did not lock her up for her safety or failed trust. He fought by her side, shoulder to shoulder.

When he'd risked all to save a good man from death, she'd stood by his side, adding her influence, so he'd not face the penalty alone.

Now the battle has shifted. The delicately edged word. The significant raised eyebrow. The unwritten rules.

But wherever life takes them, from drawing room to drawn swords, down time and for all of eternity, she will have his back and he will have hers.


	13. Almost Caught

Double Drabble: Almost Caught  
by Honorat  
Rating: K

Summary: To tell anything would spoil this. Just a bit of silliness set on the Black Pearl. For the "Narrow Escapes" challenge at Black Pearl Sails.  
Disclaimer: Disney owns POTC. Cat owns me!

* * *

Almost Caught

The hunt is on! Her mission is to rid the Caribbean of vermin--a business that is also a pleasure. Thus far in her young life, she has been highly successful.

Finally, her pursuit has landed her aboard the last great pirate ship, the Black Pearl. While the ship is riddled with lesser prey, her chief goal is to capture that most colourful miscreant of all. She is sure he does not know how close she is.

All her primitive instincts vibrate under her skin as she begins her stalk. This time that bastard will be hers. She will make him pay for every one of his wicked deeds.

Ah ha! There he is! Perched jauntily on the fighting top. Stealthily she climbs up behind him, weapons ready.

Now is the opportune moment.

She springs. For a moment he is within her grasp. Then, inexplicably, he is gone.

"Avast, you scurvy dog!" he cries.

She howls her frustration at the insult. He has escaped her again! But not unscathed. As Cotton's Parrot flits away, Cat O'Nine Tails shreds the single tail feather she has seized. Someday, she will get that parrot--if she has to do it one feather at a time!


	14. Night Watch

Double Drabble: Night Watch

By Honorat

Summary: Jack and Anamaria. Set shortly after Jack's last minute rescue from Fort Charles. Angst alert.For the "Narrow Escapes" challenge at Black Pearl Sails.

Rating: K

Disclaimer: Thus far no one has given me POTC for a birthday present, but I haven't given up hoping.

* * *

Night Watch

Tonight her luck is in. She finds her captain in the moonlight-cast shadows, curled up on a coil of rope at the base of the bowsprit. He was not here the last night exhaustion drove him to sleep.

Every night on her watch, she searches for him. In the event of storm clouds or strange sails looming on the horizon, she likes to know where he is, although he has always appeared before she has had a chance to call. Only rarely does she find him—never in the same place twice. He knows this ship better than any of them. And she has never found him in the luxurious bed of the captain's cabin.

As always he sleeps with one hand on his ship, the other on the hilt of his sword.

She wonders what ghosts haunt the bulkheads of this ship—pale stains of past betrayal— that make him unwilling to be predictable.

The knotted strands of hair that she doesn't dare brush aside from his face almost cover the fading traces of rope burns on his neck. She shudders at how narrowly she has escaped becoming his final betrayer.


	15. Invitation to Dance

Drabblish: Invitation to Dance

by Honorat

Rating: K

Disclaimer: Pirate!

Summary: Jack, having commandeered the Dauntless, is contemplating his next move. For the "White" challenge at Black Pearl Sails.

* * *

Invitation to Dance

"Here she comes."

Captain Sparrow deliberately turned his head to glance over his shoulder. The _Interceptor_ had pulled away from the pier and was setting out for the _Dauntless_. Jack's pistol rested on his shoulder, one finger of the hand that held it thoughtfully pointing skyward. A slow smile crept over his face, glinting ivory and gold. Certainly it was the predatory smile of a successful hunter who sees his quarry drawing close. But it was also the smile of a captain who sees one of the tall ladies of the sea curtseying with her white canvas skirts billowing to the man with whom she has chosen to dance.

_Come my lovely lady. Slip those tight Navy chains and fly the seas with Captain Jack. You'll never look back, and I swear I'll always treat you right. _


	16. Foiled Again

Double Drabble: Foiled Again

By Honorat

Rating: K

Disclaimer: How many times must I ask you to call me the owner of POTC? At least one more time—as always.

Summary: The one day's head start has long since gone and the pirate hunt is on. The _Dauntless_ runs across the _Black Pearl_. Norrington is having a bad day. For the "Believe" Challenge at Black Pearl Sails.

* * *

Foiled Again

"I don't believe this!" Lieutenant Gillette exclaimed more in exasperation than surprise. "He's done it again!"

Commodore Norrington didn't have to ask what he meant. The luff in the _Dauntless'_s sails told the story. Somewhere on this ship, Norrington thought, disgruntled, Lieutenant Groves was laughing. Groves was unquestionably loyal—always throwing himself into the traditional Sparrow-pursuit with skillful enthusiasm. But he displayed a regrettable lack of chagrin when that infamous pirate thumbed his nose at the British Navy yet again.

The _Black Pearl_ had been harassing merchant shipping and leading the Navy on a merry chase all over the Caribbean for more than six months since having that day's head start. Somehow the notorious Jack Sparrow, when he could be found at all, always managed to maneuver Norrington's ships into untenable positions for pursuit—into unexpected opposing currents or unfavourable shifts in the wind or, as now, into dead lulls.

Far off their port beam, the _Black Pearl_ curveted gracefully away from the _Dauntless_, kicking up her heels with a saucy flirt of charcoal sails. If he didn't know better, Norrington thought, he would swear that Jack Sparrow carried the wind in his fists.


	17. The Last Act

Drabble: The Last Act  
by Honorat  
Rating: K  
Disclaimer: Oh, Disney is the power in these waters, true enough, but there's no writers as can match we fanfic writers for speed.

Summary: Jack is about to be hanged. Uber angst. Sequel to "For Remembrance". This is an actual Drabble! For the "Believe" challenge at Black Pearl Sails.

* * *

The Last Act

The moment he had never really believed would come had arrived.

As the rough hemp chafed his neck, Jack turned his head and met Elizabeth's wide dark eyes across the eager crowd. She had come, as she had promised. Always a woman of her word, Miss Swann. Her face was pale, but she did not look away.

So good, not to be alone.

He turned back to face out over the battlements to the sea that owned his soul. Time to play out on this wooden stage the final scene of the last act of the legend of Captain Jack Sparrow.


	18. Will You Dance?

Double Drabble: Will You Dance?

by Honorat  
Rating: K  
Disclaimer: I need to find myself a writing job that pays, mate!

Summary: Set after the movie. Elizabeth finds her old society is not so eager to welcome her home. For the "Drift" challenge at Black Pearl Sails.

* * *

Will You Dance?

They want to despise her, she knows. That or pity. She's heard the whispers behind fans, counted the decrease in calling cards and rich ivory invitations. What is it that she is supposed to be now? A shameless hussy, wild to a fault, such damaged goods that no man of consequence will have her?

But still they come to the governor's ball, gawking and gossiping. She tosses her golden-brown head in triumph as she sees the reluctant jealousy in her former friends' eyes. The music drifts over their heads as Will leads her into the next dance. There is not another young man in the room as beautiful as her blacksmith. He needs no sawdust stuffing to simulate shoulders.

The glittering ballroom, the censorious stares fade as Will guides their steps. No musicians of her father's hiring can match the powerful symphony Will plays on the orchestra of her flesh with his lightest touch.

She should have known that a man so elegant and graceful in the intimate dance of swords would find his feet on native heath in the measured steps of the waltz.


	19. New Horizon

Drabble: New Horizon

By Honorat

Rating: K

Disclaimer: Not mine. No money.

Summary: Jack is getting itchy feet. Anamaria has to make a decision. For the "Drift" Challenge at Black Pearl Sails.

* * *

New Horizon

She has noticed that the charts on the captain's table have been of the South China Sea. And his eyes, always drawn to the horizon, have an even farther away look than usual. It won't be long, she expects, before he orders the _Pearl_'s sails set for the dawn and the fabled treasure of the Orient.

Jack Sparrow is no empire builder. For him, it is the adventure that calls--to drift ahead of the scudding clouds wherever the wind wishes to take him.

Soon she will have to choose whether she will remain in these familiar ports or follow her legendary captain into undiscovered seas.


	20. No Honour

Double Drabble: No Honour

By Honorat

Rating: K

Disclaimer: Don't own any blacksmiths, but I do have a nice horseshoe.

Summary: After Elizabeth leaves him belowdecks on the Interceptor, Will contemplates the implications of his actions. For the "Pirates" challenge at Black Pearl Sails.

* * *

No Honour 

No heroes among thieves, he had accused Jack. No. Nor honour either. But was there any honour among respectable men? For he, Will Turner, had surely left Jack Sparrow to die among those bloodthirsty pirates in the cavern of Isla de Muerta.

Did it matter that Jack had planned to use him as leverage—to barter for the _Black Pearl_ with the blood of Bootstrap Bill Turner's son? Did that excuse Will's own actions? He had betrayed a man. Struck him unconscious. Made no attempt to rescue him. Lied to the crew of the _Interceptor_. Sparrow had kept his promise, had taken Will to Elizabeth as he had sworn to do "on pain of death." But death would not be Jack's punishment for breaking his word; it would be his reward for keeping it.

"I thought you were a pirate," Elizabeth had said. "That would have been terrible." But he was a pirate—the son of a pirate with the broken honour of a pirate. "Pirate is in your blood, boy." The words reverberated in his mind. "Pirate is in your blood." Jack had been right.


	21. Dauntless

**_Sonnet: Dauntless_**  
by Honorat

Rating: K

Disclaimer: Don't own Jack or the _Dauntless._

Summary: A Sonnet! For the Pirate poetry meme! I blame **geekmama2** for bringing this to my attention. My 10-page chapter "Night Passage" in "Aboard the _Dauntless_" summarized into fourteen lines. My very first Petrarchan sonnet with the _volte_ coming after the octave. Do I ever feel Renaissancey!

**

* * *

Sonnet: _Dauntless_  
**by Honorat 

Blindly, she flings her hull against the night,  
Fragile wood, reckless of ravening stone.  
A creature tormented, her timbers groan.  
Close-hauled and heeling hard, daring this flight  
Into oblivion, through head seas' bite,  
She claws the current's threat. The dark waves moan  
And dash her decks. A banshee wails—the lone  
Wind knifes her canvas, stinging, like cold fright.  
She shudders. But his calm hand on her wheel  
Asks her to trust that with him she will swing  
Through wind and thunder's roar. Soon will her keel  
Caress calm waters, soft breezes will sing  
In her white sails. "Hold on, love." A bell's peal,  
Fierce as her own heart, this stranger's words ring.


	22. Turn About

Drabblish: Turn About

by Honorat

Rating: K

Disclaimer: Don't own Elizabeth or the Monkey

Summary: For the "Jack the Monkey" Challenge at Black Pearl Sails.

* * *

Turn About

By Honorat

When he'd first hung down from the companionway under which she was hiding, dangling that cursed medallion, shrieking in demented fury, his tiny, sharp fangs bared in threat, she'd screamed. In panic, she'd fled from that decaying horror, the grating creak of thin bones, the stench of rotting fragments of flesh. Death stalked her in miniature. Despair haunted her in rabid eyes.

But this time his shriek no longer moves her. What can this primal skeleton clinging to the rigging tell her about despair that she has not already absorbed into her soul? She has already stared into the face of death in the shadows beyond a fire. She has already laid her life down on the decks of the _Dauntless_.

Her widened eyes narrow. This time it will be the monkey's turn to panic.


	23. A Lesson in Manners

Beyond a Drabble: A Lesson in Manners

By Honorat

Rating: G

Disclaimer: Everybody stay calm. I'm taking over PotC.

Summary: Jack needs help getting the _Interceptor_ to Tortuga, but that means he has to teach a blacksmith to sail a ship. For the "First Day Challenge" at Black Pearl Sails.

A funny thing happened on the way to this drabble. Geek mama and I were discussing possible topics for the challenge and unbeknownst to each other went chasing off after the same plot bunny. Great minds think alike. So here's my version of Will's first day on the Interceptor. Thanks go to Geek mama for the beta read.

* * *

A Lesson in Manners

Captain Jack Sparrow put a hand on the wheel and magically the _Interceptor_ settled under his touch. Will looked at him in disbelief.

"Son, son," said the captain kindly, draping an arm over the boy's shoulder and flapping a grimy finger under Will's nose. "You'll not be getting anywhere with a fine ship until you learn to treat her like a lady."

"Like a lady," Will repeated dubiously, not significantly enlightened.

"That's right, young Mr. Turner. Like the lady she is," Jack Sparrow removed his arm and patted the _Interceptor_'s helm affectionately. "You can't tell her what to do. 'S a waste of your time, and you see what happens."

He moved the wheel and suddenly the ship was fighting again. "Sorry, love," the pirate apologized, letting the wheel slip back. The _Interceptor_ resumed smooth sailing. "Aye, you're a bonnie lass, aren't you," the captain flattered his ship.

Will could have sworn the _Interceptor_ speeded up.

"Now, Will, what you want to do with a fine lady like this is listen to her. She'll tell you what _she_ wants to do."

"Listen to her?" Will was beginning to feel like a parrot.

"Aye, listen to her. She knows more about the sea than you'll ever know. She lives in it after all."

Seeing the lad's blank look, Jack grinned. "Here, I'll show you what I mean." He indicated that Will was to take the ship's wheel again. "And this time, son, don't hold on so tight. Just put your hands on her. Pretend you're holding a butterfly in your palm and you don't want to be crushing its wings."

He waited until Will had adopted a more relaxed hold on the wheel. "Now, close your eyes."

"What?"

"If y'can't see what you're doing, you're less likely t' be doing it, eh mate?" Jack explained patiently. "I won't let you run into Hispaniola."

Will looked even more confused, but he did as he was told.

"Now, how does the wheel feel in your hands? How is the sea pressing against her rudder? Her keel? Just stand there quietly and memorize what you're feeling. And listen."

Jack removed his own hand from the wheel. Then he wandered off to check over the ship, leaving Will at the helm, unaware that he had been abandoned. The steady wind they were running before would not be providing the boy with any surprises.

When Jack returned to the quarterdeck, he nodded, satisfied. He would have expected nothing less from Bootstrap Bill's son, even if the kid was a bit of a stick. Will was still cradling the _Interceptor_'s wheel, eyes closed, a small smile tilting his lips. And the _Interceptor_ seemed to settling in to this new hand at her helm.


	24. On the Shoals

Another Non-Drabble: On the Shoals.

By Honorat

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Takin' what I can; givin' nothing back.

Summary: Mr. Gibbs has an involuntary career change and an identity crisis. For the "First Day" Challenge at Black Pearl Sails. This one is an only child as far as I can tell. Though it may have a sequel coming up--Jack Sparrow has twenty-five chickens and a Plan.

Thanks to geekmama2 for the beta read.

* * *

On the Shoals

He'd been Navy all his life. Well, all of it he cared to remember. Oh, he wasn't one o' them fancy career officers fightin' for England, Harry, and St. George or whatever it was.

But it had been a job. All his days had arranged themselves around the bells that called the larboard watch. He'd always been larboard, never starboard. He felt like larboard belonged to him. It was routine. The pattern into which he fit.

Unlike some, the pressed men especially, he'd never really seriously considered desertin'. No matter how lousy the pay, how brutal the officers, how bad the grub. He'd taken the verbal abuse, even the physical abuse. Kinda felt like home, actually. Sometimes he'd even had decent officers. Those had been good times. He hadn't minded knockin' the hardtack on the table to shake out the weevils. After all, it was food and better'n starvin'.

Then there was always the sea. That bitch goddess with her siren smile and her claws that got so damn deep in a man's soul that he couldn't lose her for love nor money, though God knows he'd tried both. Couldn't hear a wind whistle around the eaves on land without needin' to know how the horizon would look and how the ship would be slidin' down into the trough of a wave and what sails she'd carry and whether the captain would be tryin' to outrace the storm or drivin' into its teeth.

He was Navy—had that roll to his walk, the peculiar cant, the odds and ends of uniform. Even the smell—salt and tar and rum and black powder. People recognized it without his sayin' a word.

So what was he now that the Royal Navy had discharged him? Spat him out on some godforsaken Caribbean dock—he didn't even know which one. Drunk and disorderly. Insubordinate.

Well, he'd admit he had a fondness for rum, but so did most the men before the mast. And he didn't suffer fools in wigs and gold braid any more gladly than the ones with oakum in their fingernails. But to take away a man's livelihood for that? He'd rather have taken the floggin'. Add a new set of scars to the pattern on his back.

What was he now that he'd lost his anchor to windward? Cracked up on the shoals, that's what. He didn't even know if there was anything left to salvage.

His first day back as a civilian. He'd forgotten anything he'd ever known about bein' a civilian.


	25. Whose Guilt?

Tribble: Whose Guilt?

By Honorat

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I must be a mouse for PotC profit to apply, and I'm not.

Summary: Before Will gets pardoned, he and Jack have some heavy conversations in the _Dauntless'_ brig. A triple drabble for the "What have I done?" challenge at Black Pearl Sails.

* * *

Whose Guilt? 

"Jack?" Will's voice was low.

"Aye?" Jack turned his head just enough to see the lad.

"Did you know what Barbossa did to my father?"

He should have known some version of this conversation was coming. Jack tipped his head back against the bulkhead and sighed. No chance of escaping this one.

"I knew," he admitted.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

A week ago that would have been an accusation, but now there was only a bewildered hurt in the boy's voice.

"It wasn't the opportune moment," Jack evaded.

No, Will hadn't needed that bit of knowledge tying his hands.

"So I had to learn about him from Barbossa's men?" Will asked incredulously.

Jack imagined that they'd told him that story in the cruelest way possible.

"That wasn't a part of my plan," he said evenly.

The silence in that cell all but drowned out the constant murmur and creak of the _Dauntless_ as she sailed towards Port Royal.

"My father was cursed, wasn't he?" Will's voice finally broke into the stillness.

There was a long pause.

"He was."

"So when I returned the coin . . .?" Will trailed off uncertainly.

Jack had wondered when that would occur to young William.

"Jack, did I kill my father?" Will whispered, horror shivering his voice.

Now there was an unbearable burden for a lad like Will. What words were there that could make any difference at all? And yet, Will did not deserve any of that guilt. Jack knew exactly who did. He hoped the bastard was in a position to feel it, preferably for eternity.

"No, son. Barbossa killed your father."

It was the truth in every sense but the literal one, in every way that truly mattered.

"But if I hadn't done it . . ." There was anguish in Will's voice.

"If you hadn't, Elizabeth would be dead along with all Norrington's men," Jack spoke firmly. Of this, if nothing else, he was sure. He reached over and gripped Will Turner's shoulder, forcing the boy to meet his eyes. _Believe this_. "Ol' Bill would have been proud of you, son."


	26. Answered Prayer

A Tribble: Answered Prayer

By Honorat

Rating: K+

Disclaimer: Dead men tell no tales.

Summary: A triple drabble for the "Misery" challenge at Black Pearl Sails. This one is pretty gruesome for me. Starring a younger Mr. Cotton.

* * *

Answered Prayer

He is not dead yet—although surely it is only a matter of time. They cannot mean to let him escape.

The pain is like the bright strike of a sword against his wrists where the cords cut as he fought them in mindless terror. But the fire that burns and burns in his mouth. Oh God, he cannot endure it!

Still he runs, fighting through thick jungle stench, hot and sweat-slicked, coated with biting flies. No man any more—just a panicked animal.

Suddenly the twisting vines and clutching thorns release him, and he stumbles to his knees on hot white sand. He lifts a tear- and blood-stained face to the sea. The sweet, salt sea. The sun-bronzed, shining sea.

He holds out his hands to her. Mother and lover. Home and sanctuary. But he cannot rise. He has been able to eat no food for days, to bear to drink only a little water. He has lost too much blood. His sight blurs, and he crumples in a knot of helpless misery.

Why should he even try to live? They have stolen his only gift—those precious, liquid, golden words. They have ripped away his language, his song, his communion with the human world and left him with only a meaningless scream. One of God's dumb beasts.

What hope is there for him?

He lies on the sand, praying for death, staring into the pitiless blue heavens until he is sure he sees the angels' wings. They are blue and gold, a richer hue than any of earth.

"Mercy!" he begs silently, although he can only whimper now. He holds out a shaking arm.

And a voice answers him, "Wind in the sails."


	27. Unequal Shares

A Quibble for no reason: Unequal Shares

By Honorat

Rating: K

Disclaimer: If any of you as much as thinks the word "profit," I'll have your guts for garters.

Summary: Quadruple Drabble. Jack gives Mr. Cotton a gift. This is a companion piece to Answered Prayer, which insisted on being written.

Thank you, geek mama for the beta read.

* * *

Unequal Shares

Jack has seen him in the dim, guttering candlelight as the plaintive songs of minstrels waft on rum-redolent air. Sometimes his eyes glisten with unshed tears. Sometimes his hands clench into knotted fists. Other times his lips curve in that wondrous childlike joy and his fingers tap. And there are times he rises abruptly and leaves the tavern, and they do not see him until the _Pearl _is about to depart.

So when they discover the violin in a passenger's cabin, Captain Sparrow does not add it to the swag in the holds, for sale in the next port. Instead, when he joins Mr. Cotton at the helm that evening, eager as always for the moment he will be completely in communion with his ship, Jack spares a moment to hold out the worn, black case.

He watches, a small smile chasing itself across his lips, as the man raises bewildered eyes to his captain. Not equal shares this time. Life has already dealt this man an impossibly unequal share. This is a gift.

With a flourish, Jack flips open the latches and raises the lid.

The instrument glows in the last light as though fire burns at its heart. Reverently his silent crewman runs sea-roughened fingertips over the ebony neck. When he looks up again, some of that fire has lit in his faded blue eyes. Mr. Cotton reaches out a hand to touch his captain's arm, and Jack feels the weight of the man's parrot settle on his shoulder.

As Mr. Cotton lifts the case from Jack's hands, the parrot shifts its claws, a brooding, approving presence beside Jack's ear. He hears its heavy beak clacking as it preens along the string of beads dangling in his hair, one at a time. For once, he does not swat the animal away. They will observe the truce.

That night, as the darkness slips her arms around the _Black Pearl_, the captain catches the faint strains of music floating back from the bow. Longing and loss, loneliness and love. The pent up songs of years of silence.

Jack holds his _Pearl_ a little closer, remembering.

For the first time, he hears Mr. Cotton's voice.


	28. The Road to Hell

The Road to Hell

By Honorat

Rating: K

Disclaimer: Any fanfic author that removes but a single piece of Disney's profit from that stone chest shall be punished for eternity.

Summary: A conversation between Bootstrap Bill and Jack Sparrow. This was supposed to be for the "Enchant" challenge at Black Pearl Sails, but I seem to have entirely lost the ability to write only one hundred words. This is 675 words.

Thank you geekmama2 for getting me ready to make way. I'd have had a hard time of it without you.

* * *

The Road to Hell

"I'm going after the Treasure of Cortez."

The front legs of Bill's chair dropped to the floor with a crash, and rum sloshed over the top of his flagon. His captain laughed delightedly at this reaction to his announcement.

"I know where the Island is, and I'm taking the _Pearl_ there."

"Jack, tell me this is another one of your tall tales," Bill begged. "You know better than me the stories about that treasure."

"Cursed by heathen gods, and buried on an Island that cannot be found except by those who already know where it is. Yeah, I've heard them all." Jack shrugged dismissively. He frowned into his drink and fished at something floating there with one finger. "Blasted cheap rum," he groused. "I'm sure they water it with horse piss."

Refusing to be diverted, Bill leaned forward. "It's an impossible passage, you damn fool. If you're looking for a way to commit suicide, I can take you outside and shoot you in the head myself."

Giving his angelic smile, Jack refused to rise to the bait.

Bill felt the familiar surge of futile anger that always accompanied his attempts to realign Jack Sparrow to prudence. "No ship has ever returned from an attempt to navigate to Isla de Muerta. What makes you think you'll succeed where everyone else has failed?" he demanded.

Jack raised an eyebrow at the question. "Because I've got three things they didn't have," he answered.

"And what are they?"

Contemplating his fingernails for a long moment, Jack let Bill simmer. Finally he looked up and ticked off his assets on the scarred tabletop. "I've got the fastest ship in the Caribbean, the only chart of the passages to that island, and this."

Bill caught the odd object Jack tossed to him. He turned the box in his hands until he figured out the latch on the domed lid. With a perplexed frown, he looked up.

"A compass that doesn't point north?" he asked incredulously. "Jack, I know you're daft. And somehow that's always worked for you. But this is beyond your usual level of insanity."

"Then it'll be useless to argue with me, eh mate?" Jack grinned. The candle flames laughed like madness in his dark eyes.

Bill felt a chill. For once, he wasn't sure if he'd been joking. It had always been useless to argue with Jack Sparrow once he'd set his corkscrew mind. However, that had never yet stopped Bill from trying.

"You'll lose most of the crew, you know," he persisted, the mountainous problems with Jack's proposition looming in his brain.

"And why is that?"

"There's the curse, you bloody idiot. There ain't a more superstitious lot than sailors. They'll never agree to this venture."

Acknowledging the truth of this, Jack shrugged. "Then I'll just have to pick up another crew, won't I?"

"The only men who will sail with you will be the ones who are too desperate to care about the curse or too canny to believe it," Bill snapped.

"And which are you, Bill Turner?" Jack asked, deliberately not looking at Bill. He took a swig of rum and grimaced. This swill was really almost not worth drinking.

Bill waited until he had his captain's attention again. "Oh, I believe in a curse all right," he informed Jack bitterly. "I believe that the Treasure of Cortez is cursed to lure stupid, greedy pirates into disastrous attempts to sail to a location that no ship will ever survive."

The silence only possible in a noisy taproom stretched out.

Finally, Jack spoke. "This isn't about greed, Bill."

"Oh, really? Then why don't you enlighten me, Jack Sparrow? What is it about?"

"You said it yourself. I intend to succeed where everyone else has failed." And now the look in Jack's eyes was even more disturbing than the madness.

Bill buried his head in his hands, knotting his fingers in his hair.

Then the _Black Pearl _and all who sailed her were surely doomed. Captain Jack Sparrow was enchanted by the lure of an Epic Adventure, and he, Bootstrap Bill Turner, was cursed to follow him to hell.

The End


	29. Sunday Skirmish

Sunday Skirmish

By Honorat

Rating: K

Pairing: Will/Elizabeth

Disclaimer: I make no money, so I'm curious – after suin' me what was it you were plannin' on doin' next?

Summary: A different kind of war. For the "Sunday" challenge at Black Pearl Sails. Still haven't recovered the 100 word ability—approximately 550.

Thanks to geekmama for looking over this.

* * *

Sunday Skirmish

Before him glitters more silver and china and crystal than he has ever seen in his life. The room shimmers in the glow of dozens of sconces. Will has made it through the gauntlet of introductions, through escorting a stranger to the dining hall, through the intricate maneuver of seating a lady in a cartwheel-wide skirt and armoured corset. Now he must do battle with cutlery instead of cutlasses.

Indeed, he thinks fifty barracking pirates striding over drifts of stolen treasure were less intimidating than these twenty denizens of Elizabeth's family and friends poised before this elegant table. He comes forearmed with the knowledge that he may only speak with the seatmate on his right or on his left, never across the table. But he has no idea what he will say to either of the two brocaded confections beside him. An informal, intimate dinner, Elizabeth assured him. He has a brief, nostalgic picture of the cozy little kitchen above the smithy.

But Will would walk barefoot over live coals for Elizabeth, and so he will do this for her as well. As the meal is served, he finds himself watching the fine guests with the concentration he reserves for a sword fight to the death. Every motion of his opponents, he mirrors. The silver in his hand does not feel alien. Like steel, it is the bones and blood of the earth. There is a rightness to its form, a way that it wants to move. He has crossed blades with pirates with his hands tied behind his back. He can do this now. Gradually he slides into that place where he responds instinctively to the actions of others around him. There is no more awkwardness, only his native grace.

Now he is free for strategy. The fight will take care of itself. The attention of the woman to his right is being claimed by her partner, so he turns to the other. A flicker of memory whispers in his ears: Jack's voice, "How many times do I have to tell you, whelp? You treat a fine lady like a ship. Let _her_ tell you what she wants." The corners of his lips curve. The formidable matron on his left is not immune to that smile on the face of the handsome boy with the gracious manners—so much better than she was given cause to expect. Tentatively, Will asks about her journey.

Several minutes later, they have progressed from her sciatica and her husband's gout to the historical ailments of all nine of her children, the youngest of whom is the father of three. Underneath all those furbelows, this woman is no different from the wife of the chandler, Will realizes, relaxing further. Replace the London surgeon with the quack from the traveling variety show and the stories are the same. His eyes alight with gentle amusement, he encourages her volubility. Later she will tell her husband that Elizabeth's young man is a wonderful conversationalist, no coarse accent at all. Weatherby has always been an old fussbudget.

In the lull as the matron is drawn away by the man on her left, Will catches Elizabeth's eyes across and up the table. He nods assurance. _It's all right._ She tilts her head up—all the light and sparkle of silver and gems fading before her smile. _Everything will be all right._

The End


	30. Vision Without Hope

Vision Without Hope

By Honorat

Rating: K+

Pairing: Jack/Pearl

Disclaimer: The infernal rodent owns all.

Summary: Things don't get much darker than this. Angst alert. This one comes with an illustration! A picture of the Black Pearl. Not my usual style of art. If you want to see the picture, you'll have to go to my home page which is listed on my user profile. Then select the link to "My Art".

* * *

Vision Without Hope

The night before his hanging, Jack Sparrow does not sleep. Every moment seems to slip off a silver chain of time like a precious gem—each heartbeat, each breath of foetid air. Oh God, each faintest scent of salt sea and limitless horizon. Even when the dream comes he is not sure he is sleeping.

She glides towards him through tossing seas, her torn black skirts swept by the wind, her hair undone, whipping across her face. Her mother of pearl eyes glow through the black strands like stars caught in the lace of rigging. For one caught breath, he has never seen anything so beautiful.

But then the waves crash around her as though to drag her under. In the pale moonlight, he sees her eyes are empty. The bird she has cradled in her hand, safe for all these years, is limp in her palm, its wings falling, its neck twisted, broken. Blood drips between her fingers and spirals slowly down her forearm.

Her arms are outstretched, reaching towards him, and he stumbles, sinking, to grasp her hands. But he cannot quite touch her.

The clatter of boots and the jangle of keys, the cold voices do not wake him. They merely interrupt his sight.

Jack only knows that she is gone. He has failed to save her; and she cannot save him.


	31. Herb of Grace o’ Sundays

Double Drabble: Herb of Grace o' Sundays

Author: Honorat

Rating: K

Disclaimer: Owned by mus musculus

Summary: For the "Sunday" Challenge at Black Pearl Sails. Finally, I'm within shouting distance of a drabble.

* * *

Herb of Grace o' Sundays

He's always been a man of the Enlightenment, a proponent of Reason, an admirer of Hobbes and Locke and Voltaire. He's always smiled condescendingly and tolerated the small superstitions of the men he commands—the feather of a wren killed on New Year's Day in the pocket, the sign against the evil eye, the horseshoe on the mast.

Even now he doesn't quite believe his own memories. The blood has been cleaned from his blade and his uniform. The pirates in his cells are human and die as men do die. None of his officers speaks about that night. Perhaps it had been the bad air—the air had been most foul.

However, there are shadows in the corners that he has never noticed before. And when he sets foot on the quarterdeck of the _Dauntless_, the sea, his true home for all these years, is more unfathomable, more mysterious, more perilous than it has been since he was a child.

He is a rational man, a man of sense and courage. And yet . . . his hand in the pocket of his coat closes around the small sprig of blessed rue.


	32. Bad Doggerel

Poetry: Bad Doggerel  
by Honorat  
Rated: K  
Disclaimer: I want PotC for Christmas!

Summary: This was inspired by geekmama2's icon of a Santa-hat-wearing Jack waking up on the island to discover the Rum is Gone! Okay, I have no idea where this came from or why it's here, but weird Christmas PotC poetry! LOL! Bad doggerel! No biscuit!

* * *

Twas the morn after the bonfire when all through the isle  
Snoring resounded. Jack slept with a smile.  
The pirate was tucked up all snug in the sand  
With visions of rum bottles clutched in his hand.  
When out on the beach there arose such a clatter  
He sprang from his snooze to see what was the matter.  
The sun on the breast of the glaring sea spread  
Gave him a pain worse than oars on the head  
When what to his wondering eyes should appear  
But grubby Elizabeth with a keg of rum dear.  
She was dressed in a white shift from shoulders to foot  
And her clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.  
More rapid than seagulls her twinkling legs flew,  
She tossed the barrel and the whole island blew!  
Like powder in pistols and cannons in war  
The palm trees exploded, the rum was no more.  
Up to the treetops the flames and smoke rose  
Burning the food and stinging his nose.  
"No! Not good! Stop! Not good!" The poor pirate cried.  
But the sad deed was done. The lassie had lied.  
Jack threatened and whined, he frothed and he waved  
He stomped and he stamped, he fumed and he raved.  
Then Liz heard him exclaim, ere he shot her on sight,  
"But why is the rum gone? It just ain't right!" 


	33. Jack's Gettin' Nothin' for Christmas

Jack's Gettin' Nothin' for Christmas

by Honorat  
Rating: K

Disclaimer: Blame it on the rum!

Summary: This doggerel muse has got to be deep-sixed. I can't stop writing execrable poetry! Beverage Alert!  
Rum? But why is the rum gone? Oh right. Pen assures me that we were locked inside the keg. Deck the Halls with drunken pirates! Falalalalala! Tis the season to steal gold plates! FALALALALALA! Pearls and Diamonds without measure! FALALALA(hic!)LALA! Everyone lock up your treasure! Falalalalalalalala! There! Thatsh better! (hic!)

Wanders off singing, "I'm dreaming of a Caribbean Christmas! Just like the ones we used to know! Where the beaches glisten and pirates listen to tales of gold that drifts like snow!" (Burp)

Oops! There's a nasty, smelly pirate singing in my head. Out, out, d--d pirate!

Here he is everyone. (Runs quick to avoid rotten tomatoes)

* * *

Jack's Gettin' Nothin' for Christmas (to the tune of I'm Gettin' Nothin' for Christmas) 

I gave his girl a corset strip,  
Is he upset with me!  
I commandeered a Navy ship.  
Somebody snitched on me.

I shed those chains and broke each link,  
Let the Interceptor sink,  
Jumped the walls into the drink;  
He's right incensed with me.

I'm gettin' nothin' for Christmas.  
James and the Navy are mad.  
I'm gettin' nothin' for Christmas,  
'Cause I ain't been nothin' but bad.

* * *

I always had ten times his style.  
Was he upset with me!  
I showed up on that treasure isle.  
Somebody snitched on me!

I ate an apple from his bowl,  
Stole a coin and sold my soul,  
Shot his chest with a great big hole;  
He's right irate at me.

I'm gettin' nothin' for Christmas.  
Hector Barbossa is mad.  
I'm gettin' nothin' for Christmas,  
'Cause I ain't been nothin' but bad.

* * *

I used Will Turner for a bait.  
Is she upset with me!  
I left that kiss until too late!  
Am I upset with me!

I took her hostage on the dock,  
Told her my stories were just talk,  
Had her restrained under a lock;  
She's right outraged at me.

I'm gettin' nothin' for Christmas.  
Elizabeth Swann is mad.  
I'm gettin' nothin' for Christmas,  
'Cause I ain't been nothin' but bad.

* * *

Hey! I was merely an almost innocent bystander! I'll just be borrowin' those gifts without permission!

CJS


	34. Sparrow, the Crazy Pirate

Pirate Carol: Sparrow the Crazy Pirate

by Honorat  
Rating: PG  
Disclaimer: Blame it on the rum!

Summary: More bad doggerel! Where is that never-to-be-sufficiently-despised muse? Don't blame me! Captain should know better'n to put the lid on the rum without checkin' who's inside!

* * *

Sparrow the Crazy Pirate (to the tune of Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer)

Sparrow, the crazy pirate, had a very shiny smile,  
And if you ever saw it, you would know he's full of guile.  
All of the other pirates used to laugh and call him daft.  
They never knew Jack Sparrow was the master of his craft.

Then one foggy summer's eve, Barbossa came to say  
Give me my medallion while I blow you all away.

Sparrow, the crazy pirate, had a very lovely ship,  
And when again he saw her, he gave the commodore the slip.  
Taking a blacksmith with him, picking up a gov'nor's lass  
Sparrow, the crazy pirate, set out to kick some --- (am I allowed to say this in a Christmas carol? Well you know what I mean)

Then one foggy summer's eve, Sparrow came to say,  
Give me my Black Pearl while I blow you all away.

Then all the pirates left him, and the navy hanged him—wait just a bloody minute! Something's gone wrong with this story and the rhyme!

Then Will and Lizbeth saved him,  
And he landed in the sea.  
Sparrow, the crazy pirate, will go down in history!

Phew! That was a close shave!


	35. It's My Hanging and I'll Laugh if I Want

Parody Poetry: It's My Hanging and I'll Laugh if I Want To  
by Honorat  
Rating: K (Is there a rating for totally tasteless?)  
Disclaimer: The demented muse made me do it.

Summary: A parody of "It's My Party and I'll Cry if I Want To" (Complete with slant rhyme and irregular line lengths.) This is for the "Music" challenge at Black Pearl Sails. All death threats can be sent to the Andromeda Galaxy--which is where I'm hiding out.

* * *

It's My Hanging and I'll Laugh if I Want To

Chorus:  
It's my hanging and I'll laugh if I want to,  
Laugh if I want to, laugh if I want to.  
You would laugh too, if you knew what I do.

You can glare at me all you want, my friends.  
I've run through all the raindrops.  
I've lived my life in freedom,  
Though it ends with sudden stops.

(Chorus)

At least I've had my share of thrills and fun.  
I've escaped a thousand plights.  
Playing priest was a riot!  
I could give my own last rites.

(Chorus)

Now Will has done a stupid Turner thing.  
We're dumping marines in droves.  
The whole fort's in an uproar,  
And a feather's up my nose.

(Chorus)

Cotton's parrot is flying high above.  
Liz has made James' humour vile.  
I'm about to take a dive;  
I've got reason for a smile.

(Chorus)

The _Black Pearl_ is sailing around the point,  
Like a queen come for her king.  
Oh what a perfect surprise!  
If I weren't swimming, I'd sing.

Chorus:  
It's my hanging and I'll laugh if I want to,  
Laugh if I want to, laugh if I want to.  
You would laugh too, if you knew what I do.


	36. Norrington is Coming to Town

Navy Parody Poetry: Norrington is Coming to Town

by Honorat

Rating: G(for good grief!) or K

Disclaimer: I swear I shot that demented muse against a wall at dawn, but the bloody thing is cursed. Zombie Parody Muse strikes again!

Summary: The Commodore was not amused that That Pirate was getting all the Christmas carols. So here's one for you, James! To the tune of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town".

* * *

Norrington is Coming to Town!

You better watch out.  
You better not loot.  
You better not poach or pilfer or shoot.  
Norrington is coming to town.

He's making a list, checking it twice,  
Gonna find out who wallows in vice.  
Norrington is coming to town.

He sees you when you're plundering.  
He's following in your wake.  
He knows if you've been bad or worse,  
So run fast for goodness sake!

With shrilling tin fifes and drilling snare drums,  
Trampling of boots and thunder of guns,  
Norrington is coming to town.

He'll halt your depredations,  
Wrest back what you would take.  
He's built a sturdy gallows,  
So be good for prudence sake.

You better watch out.  
You better be sly.  
All pirates he'll rout, I'm telling you why.  
Norrington is coming to town!


	37. Sparrow the Pirate

Parody Carol: Sparrow the Pirate  
Perpetrated by Honorat  
Rated: G (for "gag me with a spoon") or K  
Disclaimer: Zombie Pirate Parody Muse has barricaded me in the gaol and will not let me out until I write this!

Summary: Lieutenant Gillette has had one too many consolatory rums and is singing a little ditty. To the tune of "Frosty the Snowman" which might have been written with Jack in mind as it is!

* * *

Sparrow the Pirate

Sparrow the Pirate  
is a viley dissolute soul,  
with his jangly hair and his gold-shot smirk  
and his eyes outlined with kohl.

Sparrow the Pirate  
is a legend so they say--  
just some purple prose--  
but the Navy knows  
how he came too true one day.

There had to be a curse  
upon that gold medallion.  
For when Liz tumbled from the Fort,  
we ran Sparrow to the ground.

Sparrow the Pirate  
was as guilty as could be.  
He'd be made to pay,  
destined for the Cay,  
when he fished Liz from the sea.

Sparrow the Pirate  
knew the noose was tight that day.  
"Though you think you've won,  
and holding Liz is fun,  
now it's time I scoot away!"

Down through Port Royal  
With a cutlass in his hand,  
he ran here and there all around the square  
saying, "Catch me if you can!"

He led us down the streets of town  
right to the blacksmith shop,  
where he fought with young Will Turner  
till on him Brown got the drop.

Sparrow the Pirate  
is in gaol for today.  
Though he's raised some dust,  
we can safely trust  
he will never get away.

(Much Later)  
Flippety, bump, trip,  
Hoppety, thump, skip.  
Look at Sparrow go!  
Stealing our ship!  
Norrie will flip!  
This is my all time low!


	38. Norrie the Bold Commodore

Navy Parody Carol: Norrie the Bold Commodore  
Perpetrated by Honorat  
Rating: G (for gak!)  
Disclaimer: This is all **aft and daft's** fault! Brought to you by the Zombie Muse

Summary: More Navy Christmas Carols. Jack is going to be jealous. To the tune of "Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer".

* * *

Norrie the bold commodore  
Had a very shiny sword,  
And if you ever saw it,  
Your neck would soon meet a cord.

All of the other pirates  
Used to quake and call him Scourge  
They knew that if he caught them,  
Their only song would be a dirge.

Then one sunny summer day, Sparrow came to say  
Norrie with your sword so bright,  
Look the other way tonight!

Then all the pirates loved him,  
And they shouted out with glee,  
Norrie the bold commodore,  
Let at least one man run free!


	39. Elizabeth's Carol

Parody Carol: Elizabeth's Carol

Perpetrated by Honorat

Disclaimer: Fear my Zombie Parody Muse.

Summary: Elizabeth insisted that all this masculine favouritism had to stop. So here is a carol from her. This is for all of you who wanted "Let it Snow" rehabilitated.

* * *

Elizabeth's Carol

The commodore's proposing,  
Though I think I might be dozing,  
Since I'm in a too-tight gown,  
I could drown.  
I could drown.  
I could drown.

Oh the pirates outside are spiteful,  
And their bones are terribly frightful.  
How I wish this were a dream.  
Run and scream.  
Run and scream.  
Run and scream.

The pirate is drunk and sleeping,  
While the rum in piles I'm heaping.  
Since I've got places to go,  
Let it blow.  
Let it blow.  
Let it blow.

You're with pirates who should have died.  
How I'll hate going into that cave.  
But if you will fight by my side,  
All the way through, I'll be brave.

Poor James is nearly crying,  
And the pirate is good-byeing  
But as long as you love me true,  
I love you.  
I love you.  
I love you.


	40. Perchance to Dream

**_Double Drabble: Perchance to Dream_**  
by Honorat

Rating: K  
Disclaimer: Owned by the Mouse. I swear I am an almost innocent fanfic writer.  
Pairing: Will/Elizabeth  
Summary: I have finally managed to write a drabble again! Well, a double one. A little missing scene for the Black Pearl Sails "Lullaby" challenge. Angsty, if you can believe it.

**_

* * *

Double Drabble: Perchance to Dream_**

Every night after his rescue he had fought sleep with a desperate fury, but eventually his exhausted young body would vanquish his battered spirit and drag him down into fiery nightmares. Then he would come violently awake, his throat a raw echo of screams, the thin sheet twisted damp, the acrid scent of his own fear stinging his nostrils, unable to flee from the images branded on the backs of his eyelids. He would not return to sleep.

This night, however, he found himself rocking in his mother's arms again, hearing the soothing melody of the old lullaby she used to sing over him. The gentle notes held power over the terror, driving it from him, surrounding him with safety. A cool hand brushed the damp strands of hair from his forehead as his mother used to do, but it was not the familiar, work-worn palm.

He opened his eyes, startled, to see the face of the young girl with the freckles and ringlets and large, dark eyes. Again he heard her soft voice: "I'm watching over you, Will." Her hand slipped into his.

That night Will Turner finally slept until dawn.

* * *


	41. Siren Song

_**Siren Song**_

By Honorat

Rating: K

Pairing: Jack/Pearl

Disclaimer: If wishes were horses . . .

Summary: A series of musical notes for the "Lullaby" challenge at Black Pearl Sails. A Quadruple Drabble.

* * *

**_Siren Song_**

His first lullaby was the music of the sea, beating to the time of his mother's heart.

That song, melded from the sough of the wind and the long salt-tang slide of breakers over shoals, and the far off cries of the mews, lulled him to sleep the first time he found himself all alone in the vast darkness of a cold world.

It spoke to him of faraway places and horizons that never ended, of a life so free it was like taking flight into the sun, making despair bearable.

When he had at last given himself to that unceasing, fathomless, dark musician, her deep voice sighing in the slip of waves along a wooden hull, piping in the standing and running rigging, humming against spread canvas, almost carried his mind away from the fire of the stripes on his back.

She sang paeans of exultation when he first stood at the helm of his ship—His Ship—the home towards which all his wandering steps had led, the love all his desires had sought, the life so intertwined with his own that he felt her pulse in the marrow of his bones. The _Black Pearl_ embodied all the music of the endless sea and enveloped him within it like one pure and eternal note.

The sea sobbed with him the night he found himself alone again, bereft of all that had made his life meaningful. She roared with his rage, crashing against sharp coral, slashing her turquoise waters into ribbons that bled white froth. She groaned against the sand and growled in her seething breakers. The sound of her, the touch of her on his heated flesh were the only things that held him to a sanity more unbearable than any madness.

And the day he finally stood again with his hands on his dark lady and his heart already thrown off the edge of the earth, the sea caught golden sunlight and tossed it about him, trilling bright arpeggios of joy amidst the shrouds and lines of the _Black Pearl_, clapping white foam hands before the bright, gem-encrusted wave of her bow,

That night he was again rocked to sleep in her arms, listening to her whispered lullaby caress along his own heartbeats.

End


	42. The Final Fire

Vignette: The Final Fire

By Honorat

Rating: K+

Pairing: Will/Elizabeth

Disclaimer: The rodent made me do it.

Summary: I don't even know how to describe this. Will and Elizabeth fight in the cave at Isla de Muerta. 700 words, for the "Blossom" challenge at Black Pearl Sails.

Thank youGeekmama for beta-ing this!

* * *

In the heat of the battle, as they fight through drifts of gold, in and out of silver shafts of moonlight, Will can only see Elizabeth. And oh, she is magnificent, with her golden hair flying and her eyes bright, so bright, with not a glimmer of fear, but with the flame of rage, crimson and snapping as the banners of an army in war. He meets her eyes above the clash of steel and gold, and the fire that ignites between them on this cusp of life and death may reduce him to slag and ashes. He notices, in the way one does when life speeds to such a fever pitch that the entire universe seems to creep slower and slower, the grace of her movements, the play of long, slender muscles in her legs, the deadly swing of her arm, the indomitable toss of her head, the way she is almost dancing in this fatal cotillion.

He scarcely sees the men he fights. They cannot touch him. Their movements trail behind his as if they will never catch up. These rotting undead wretches are merely inert obstacles through which he and Elizabeth swirl like liquid gold. They do this for each other. Each stroke, each parry, each shuddering shock of landed blows, each elaborate pattern of footsteps, each supple arch of torso is a hymn to the wonder that is the two of them together. He could stay here forever.

The unity he has always found with the men he has fought is as nothing to the intense oneness he feels fighting beside this girl for whom he would give every day and every breath of his life. Even when he cannot see her, he can feel in his heart each move she makes, as though her heart beats in his chest, as though she is the star around which he must forever revolve. He feels her presence like wind upon his soul, blowing like a gale around him, all fragments of past hurts and resentments, of loss and despair, caught up in the spiral of her storm and dispersed to the four corners of the earth. As the chains fall off his soul, he can almost see himself blossoming into a column of pure light before the ineffable glory of her.

They do not need to speak. Together they grasp the golden staff, like a harp string connecting the two of them in a scintillating blaze of joy. The pirates have no chance. Cursed immortality must give way before this beyond-mortal creature of spirit they have become. The only thing stronger than a curse is a blessing. And Will feels like he embodies the deepest and most agonizing prayer, the highest paean of praise. That death officiates at this ceremony of life is a travesty.

Together, they send the length of that staff through the long-silent hearts of their three adversaries, linking them in a terrible chain of grating bone and flaking gold leaf. Heartless, skeletal, tied together by gold—there is a sense of things falling into place. A rightness in this horror and struggle. With frightening elation Will lights the final fire—the small apocalypse that will end the world for three men. He thrusts the sizzling grenade into the ribcage of the man who brought it to this afflicted place. All things return to their origins. No man can escape the consequences of his actions. Then he and Elizabeth propel their enemies into the shadows where their flesh will return and trap them forever.

This is a terrible thing which they do. But they do it because they must. Life is the stake in this dance of death. They must accept the consequences of this action. And so they stand together, souls raw and unshielded. And they do not look away.

* * *

Look in his eyes. The little man, skewered on a golden staff, bearing within his belly the gathering dissolution of his flesh. Listen to his voice as he cries the truth of the universe: "No fair!" And it isn't. It never has been. Listen, and never forget.

It is not about fairness. It is about love.


	43. Affaire de Coeur

Drabblish: _Affaire de Coeur_

by Honorat

Rating: K

Pairing: Jack?

Disclaimer: Pirate!

Summary: Captain Jack Sparrow is flirting with someone. What else is new? Late answer to the "Blue" challenge at Black Pearl Sails. 250 words.

* * *

Captain Jack Sparrow sauntered along the harbour front, the corners of his mouth curving into a smile that boded no good for anyone. But oh, he was very fine when he was bad, he smirked, very fine indeed. The object of his attention was well aware of this. The pirate ran a caressing eye over his prize. She was a diamond of the first water, no doubt about that. 

His next ship. The bonny brig _Interceptor._

She had been calling to him ever since he had first laid eyes on her, bobbing flirtatiously on the turquoise surface of the bay, tugging ardently at her moorings, stretching her delicate spars up to the blue sky. Oh, she was a lovely lady. And she was his. He knew it—and she knew it. His hands itched to touch her.

Of course she was not his one true love, not the polar star to which his heart would always turn. But like a man who catches the eye of a comely lass across the dim interior of a crowdedtavern and knows he will soon find her eager at his elbow, Jack was sure that the _Interceptor_ would be well-content with a meteoric _affaire de coeur_ with a captain who knew every possible way to please a fine ship.

The only party still in the dark was the Royal Navy, whose gold and blue colours she wore. Jack didn't plan to enlightenthem until it was too late.To the husband belonged the horns.


	44. Do Not Go Gentle

Tribble for the Challenge: Do Not Go Gentle SPOILER!

By Honorat

Rating: K+

Disclaimer: Hey Mouse! It had better be better than this if you do it!

Summary: For the "Wish" challenge. My take on the possible ending for PotC2. Do not read if you don't want to know. Inspired by the new Trailer and the spoiler conversations we've been having at Black Pearl Sails.

Thanks to geekmama for suffering through beta reading this.

* * *

Do Not Go Gentle

He had that look about him that she remembered her mother having. She had never forgotten it. That coiled and snarling fight against the inevitable. No weapon, no ardent wish, no prayer, no subterfuge, no swift flight could avert what must be. She could tell he knew it. Beneath the surface, the light of it almost shone through his skin.

To surrender was not in him. Neither was to run. He had returned to his ship, to them.

And so she would give him this gift.

One hundred souls would live—and one would die.

They outnumbered him. It could have been a matter of their swords against his. But she let them leave without urging a last mutiny. It should not be an act of hate.

It could have been some petty deception. An exclamation. An appeal to that insatiable curiousity. But she could not treat his life so lightly. It should not be a trivial act.

Such an end should be an act of love. Terrible and beautiful. Not the kind of love she shared with Will, but the strong seal of friendship. A farewell worthy of such a man. A betrayal fit for a god and a sacrifice.

The moment stretched out as tight as unshed tears. The last touch of his hand on her hair. The conflagration of life where their lips touched. She wanted him to taste it, to exult in it, to take comfort in it. She did not fool him. They were too much alike. She could feel him giving way like the ebb of a tide—could see the knowledge and the renunciation darken his eyes.

Steel clicked coldly. He would go down with his _Black Pearl_. Even death should not part them again. Pulling back, she met his eyes once. His voice was soft, understanding, even, perhaps, grateful, absolving her —acknowledging the rightness of this time and this place.

"Pirate."


	45. For Love is as Strong as Death

One-shot: For Love is as Strong as Death

By Honorat

Rated: PG

Pairing: Will/Elizabeth

Warning: SPOILERS

Disclaimer: I owe Disney my soul.

Summary: SPOILERS. The moment in the final battle with the kraken before it grabs Elizabeth. This is a moment in the movie that I have never heard discussed, so I thought I would attempt to write it and provoke a discussion. Elizabeth's POV.

Thanks to Geekmama for the betaing.

* * *

She had expected to be married to Will by now, not killing him.

But now he is bound to a far darker mistress, chained by the choices of love and responsibility, trapped by remorseless rope to a bride of sky-flung explosion. And she will consummate that union herself. Hers will be the hand that pulls the trigger.

The fire that has always flowed under the surface of his skin, that has always kindled an answering blaze in her own blood, will burn against the sky in an inferno of annihilation. He will be all the light in her life for one last time before their world ends.

_Whatever you do, don't miss_, he has commanded her. _As soon as you're clear_, she has told him. But he will never be clear, now. And though the heat of a grief yet to come sears her heart, the barrel of the rifle is steady. She will not miss, because she must not.

The slender hollow cylinder of steel tracks the wild gyrations of the net that is Will's prison and his shroud. The fair day—and how _dare _the day be fair—recedes from her sight. The cracking, thundering destruction of the leviathan's embrace cannot reach her ears. The smell of hot metal and gunpowder fills her nostrils.

And she remembers.

_Hazy golden mornings. Azure sea. The first unfamiliar feel of well-oiled mahogany against her shoulder. Scents of sweat and molten steel, so different from powder and pomander. Warm, callused hands, so strange and yet so right upon her own, guiding her fingers on the barrel and the firing mechanism. A game for the sheltered child she had been. Deadly earnest for the young lad who'd seen what fate could serve to a woman defenseless. Even then Will had sought to protect her by making her strong._

Now she has need of more strength than she possesses to pull a single trigger one last time. To send the shot that will touch off the conflagration of Will's funeral pyre. The shot that will widow her before she has been a wife. That will end her life as surely as it does his.

Her eyes, in which tears must not blur her sight, are filled only with Will—his dark hair that she will never again thread through with her fingers, the pulse on his arched neck that she will never again taste beating against her tongue, his chest against which she will never press to feel the twin pounding of their hearts.

He is hanging now, a sacrifice, an offering to appease the wrath of the sea.

She is surrounded by death, but this is the one that matters. All her choices, all her chances, are gone now. For the sake of life, for the chance it will give the others, one man must die. And she must be his murderer.

"Elizabeth!" he cries. "Shoot! Shoot now!"

His final words to her.

_I love you Will. I will always love you._

She prays this will not be in vain. She prays she will follow him soon. And her finger tightens on the trigger.


	46. The Coming of the Comforter

Vignette: The Coming of the Comforter--SPOILERS

By Honorat

Rated: G

Warning: Spoilers for DMC

Disclaimer: It's not stealing; it's salvaging.

Summary: Jack Sparrow departs the island of the Pelagostos people. The true story of the dog. 500 words.

Thank you Geekmama for beta-ing this.

The Pelagostos people stood in the crash of the surf, like abandoned children, as their god leapt to the flanks of the great black ship that had brought Him back to them and was now as surely carrying Him away. The sun grew dark in their eyes and their voices were raised in lamentation. He was gone, and already the world seemed a colder place.

But then an unfamiliar noise sounded behind them. They turned as one body and beheld the strange creature to which their god had spoken as He had fled to the sea. It was calling to them, although they could not understand its words. Joy suffused their dejected limbs. He had not left them completely. This creature was His final gift to them.

In jubilation they ran towards it, their voices raised in renewed hope.

Like Him, it ran from them, reluctant to be embraced, afraid of their love. But it would come to them eventually, and they would lavish upon it their utmost devotion because it was His—because, even in His flight, He had not forgotten them in their loneliness. He had left them this little spot of brightness now that the divine light had departed from them.

That night, as the sparks from the fire that should have consumed the mortal prison of their own god flew empty-handed towards the dark heavens, and the thousands of eyes of the eternal gods glittered down on them, the people prayed for that lost soul. His gift sat on the throne, a leg bone gripped in its teeth, ears alert under a small crown like He had worn, hearing the chants in the stead of the god.

The old wise woman looked deep into His fire, tears running down her withered cheeks as she spoke. "He has gone from us to a terrible fate. His soul must still leave His flesh behind, pain cleaving the bonds that hold Him so tightly to earth. But now He will die alone, with none of His people surrounding Him for comfort, with no worshippers and no prayers. He will not realize the joy of living on in the blood of His people. Instead of light and warmth, He will find only cold and dark. And no song will ascend with His spirit to guide Him home. He will wander, lost in the unending night, severed from all that He loves, until such time as some great spirit will seek Him out beyond the ends of the earth and carry His soul back to His body, where He must begin again His search for freedom."

Sorely distressed, the Pelagostos people contemplated the prophecy concerning the suffering their god must endure, but the creature of the god stepped down from the throne and leapt among them and kissed their hands and comforted them in their sorrow.

The End


	47. Playing Truant

One-shot: Playing Truant

By Honorat

Rated: K

Pairing: Will/Elizabeth

Warning: SPOILERS

Disclaimer: If I weren't crazy, this would never work.

Summary: SPOILERS. Sometimes a new job can bring surprises. My first post-AWE plot bunny. This one is just a little fluffy bunny, too.

Thanks to Geekmama for the betaing.

* * *

Tiny souls, like flickering, fading beacons against the immense darkness of storm and sea, call to him. They reach into the space which once contained his heart and twist with adamantine chains drawing him to them. This night is no exception. 

One life, bright and alone in all that vast expanse of water. No wreckage of ship on or below the surface of the sea. Perhaps this sailor has been swept overboard, his ship gone on unheeding.

He watches, silent and implacable, as his men haul the gasping, shivering wretch aboard.

Stoicism flees before astonishment as he realizes the drenched shoulders are shaking neither with exhaustion nor with terror but with—laughter?

One stride and his hand grips slender, calloused, impossibly familiar fingers. Wet hair flies aside like tattered shreds of sails revealing those dark, lightning-flashing eyes that have always spoken of the sea and endless horizons to him.

"Do you fear death?" she prompts him—as though his speechlessness is mere forgetfulness.

A stupid query. He already knows the answer. This woman has always taken fear in her teeth and crushed it.

He does not question this gift of the gods, but pulls her into his embrace, fierce and hungry, breathing her name against her hair: "Elizabeth!"

When at last they emerge from the sweet flames of a starving kiss for breath, for tears, for laughter, for words that swirl and tumble like breakers on a beloved shore—home and heart's desire in the midst of unmapped waves—he asks her how this is possible. What reprieve of his ten year sentence have they been granted and at what cost?

Her eyes sparkle and the corners of her mouth quirk with that adorable mischievousness that has from childhood accompanied all her circumventing of the restrictions her guardians attempted to place on her desires.

"But Will," she says, her voice all impish cajolery, "that was ten years before we meet on land. No one said anything at all about on water."

He should have known she would find a way around, under or through any curse.

That night across the seven seas, no tempests rage, all ships sail in sweet peace, and the moon shines kindly on the love of the Captain of the Flying Dutchman and his Bride.


	48. Practice Makes Perfect

Drabble: Practice Makes Perfect

By Honorat

Rating: K

Character: Barbossa

Pairing: Barbossa/Apples :D

Disclaimer: We are cursed fanfic writers, Mr. Disney. Compelled to write, we were, but now we are consumed by it.

Summary: A missing moment in CotBP. Where did all the food come from? This is as close to a drabble as I've come in years. For the "Practice" challenge at Black Pearl Sails.

* * *

For the first time in almost ten years, the _Black Pearl _is taking on provisions.

Tonight they will set sail for Isla de Muerte, and Cook will prepare a banquet. Barbossa's teeth glint in anticipation. Pigeon and duck, sirloin of beef and chyne of mutton. Breads and cheeses. Plenty of vegetables well served up. Puddings and trifles. Tea and wine and syllabub.

And all manner of fruits. Bushels of apples.

Barbossa licks his lips with a dry tongue.

The Turner maid has gone without food for three days now. It will never do to starve the lass to death before she has a chance to donate her father's blood to the Aztec gods.

And Cook can use the practice.

The End


End file.
